Impulse
by pink.chocolate.unicorn
Summary: Castiel discovers something about himself, quite by accident. He's thinking about... things. A desire. An urge. To see Dean in his trench coat. Just his trench coat... (Destiel. Slash. Basically PWP. Trench coat kink/fetish. Rated M for mature content and language.) Complete.


_(A/N: Rated **M** for mature content and language._

_This little gem is from a prompt/fic idea from the lovely Mizackles. It spoke to me... and _this_ happened. _

_Warnings: MalexMale slash. Smut (entirely). Language. Bottom!Dean. Trench coat kink/fetish. Mention of sex toys.  
_

_Enjoy.)_

* * *

Castiel discovers something about himself, quite by accident. He's thinking about... things. A desire. An _urge_.

It started innocently enough; Dean borrowed his old trench coat for a job interview - part of an active investigation he and Sam were involved with. It was big enough on him that it fit Dean well enough - roomy enough for those broad shoulders and chest. He didn't mind lending it him. Until Dean gave it back; still warm and covered in his scent. (He's a little embarrassed to admit he later wore only that still Dean-musk scented trench coat as he masturbated furiously the moment he had a moment alone.)

Dean wore the coat again, needing to borrow something to cover a rip right up the rear middle seam of his pants. He'd been rough-housing with his brother (apparently, even as grown men they can't help themselves). He had nearly gone insane knowing there was a chance of Dean's bare skin brushing the fabric of his coat since Dean eschewed wearing underwear on occasion. (He snuck off and revisited that wild masturbation habit again - unable to help himself as he imagined Dean wearing nothing else.)

Castiel doesn't know what to make of all this... Dean is very attractive and even after the years together, it doesn't take the other man much effort to turn him on.

But the thought of Dean, naked, in _his_ trench coat has him raging hard like little else has before. He wonders if it's a possessive thing (something he's no stranger to when regarding Dean) because the trench coat alone is not an erotic article of clothing. And Dean naked... Well, that's very pleasing and erotic but this is more than that.

He doesn't know what to do with this development and he's working on screwing up his courage to talk to Dean, knowing the man will try to avoid it. But he's hoping Dean will acquiesce when he knows it's about sex. It wouldn't be the first time they'd had a slightly uncomfortable discussion about their sex life. The fact that such talks, generally, ended pleasurably is the main motivator he (but mostly Dean) had for speaking up in the first place.

What's the worst Dean would do? Laugh? Refuse? Call him a kinky bastard? (However, he's learned the last option is hardly an insult when coming from Dean.) All were possible, really; sometimes, it's difficult to accurately predict Dean's re/actions. He ponders the morality of finding other ways to get Dean into his coat on the sly, on the off chance he refuses.

It definitely would be one of the more easier (and infinitely more satisfying) tasks he's taken on.

Castiel is lost in thought as he walks through the front door. Thoughts of Dean, naked and in his trench coat, are prevalent and he's almost convinced he's imagining things...

He pauses, hand still on the door knob, as he takes in the scene before him: Dean, _in his trench coat_, dancing around the main room of the bunker. He doesn't recognize the song coming from Dean's iPod, but it's definitely not the usual music he'd associate with Dean. This is pop-y and upbeat, no doubt sung by a teenaged girl. He idly wonders if it's one of the songs Sam listens to as he quietly closes the door, loath to disturb the scene in front of him.

The heated flush of lust and arousal is quick and almost makes him dizzy. He swallows thickly when he can clearly see Dean's hips moving rhythmically, in time to the music - a hint Dean's heard the song more than once. (So, probably not Sam's.) Even with the copious amounts of loose tan fabric, it's impossible to miss the sensuous roll and hip swivels. He wishes Dean would turn around - he wants to see that in more detail.

He knows how those hips move; he's seen Dean use only the movement of those hips - easy, slow rolls and circles or quick, sinful thrusts - to fuck himself in his lap quite a few times. (Admitting he wanted to be used simply for Dean's pleasure on occasion had definitely been one of the better confessionals when it resulted in knowing such things.)

Then again, if Dean turns, Dean will see him 'perving' from the foyer and he really doesn't want that. He knows Dean would stop his dancing, if that were the case.

He's disappointed when Dean turns moments later, the Hunter much more adept at sensing his presence and approach these days. Dean grins at him, though, so he's not _that_ disappointed. He finally enters the room properly, stopping a few feet away from Dean. He's unable to keep himself from staring, taking in the sight of Dean in his trench coat. There's a familiar expression on Dean's face and he knows the Hunter has noticed his arousal, which is at full attention and easy to see in his dress slacks.

"You're wearing my coat," Castiel says, his gaze drawn down to the tied fabric belt. He's again flushed with heat and desire and he swallows thickly when he realizes Dean isn't wearing any pants - probably nothing at all, actually. All he sees is trench coat and beautifully bare legs. He looks back up and licks his lips, unsure how to take Dean's grin. Usually, a smile like that precedes all sorts of filthy, but very pleasurable, things.

He's immediately and intently focused on Dean and Dean alone.

Dean steps closer and runs a hand down Cas' chest, affecting a casual shrug. "Yeah," he says, flicking one of the pearly buttons on Cas' button down. He slides his palms around Cas' chest and down his stomach, feeling hot and fluttery as he fondles Cas. He almost hates Cas' nerd-wear since it hides his awesome body... but then people would stare and that's so not cool with him. Stabbing humans for looking at his angel isn't exactly justifiable...

What he really wants is to reach down and give the tented pants attention, but he doesn't. Not yet. He's pretty proud of himself for figuring out Cas' 'trench coat' kink and the evidence is very telling. And tempting. "I figured you wouldn't mind if I borrowed it."

Castiel can only nod, then shake his head. Then nod again; he doesn't mind at all. Everything he has is Dean's, regardless of what they were talking about. He's unsure why Dean would say that, now, but he can't quite make any words come out of his mouth. He should ask. They should talk about this. Instead, he just winds up making a guttural noise of _want_, his thoughts only filled of _yes, perfect _and_ finally _as his hands dart out to untie the belt around Dean's waist. He has to see...

Dean gently bats Cas' hands off the knotted belt before he can work it loose. It's a turn on when Cas lets himself be smacked away; always is when Cas bends to his will instead of using his mojo or getting all angel-y on him. He's not quite ready to let Cas have at him yet. He'd been stuck waiting over an hour for the damn angel to come home. Of course, it probably wasn't Cas' fault he'd been late, but still. Cas is patient, a few extra minutes probably won't kill him...

"Do you mind? Me wearing your stuff?" Dean asks, running a hand down the front of the trench coat. The buttons jiggle a little and there's a whisper of fabric against his palm. He flicks the end of the belt, mostly because it's right in front of his dick and he wants Cas to see. He's very aware of Cas' intense gaze and it only turns him on more. He doesn't bother trying to keep himself from wiggling his hips, deliberately letting the fabric drag across his dick.

He grins when Cas makes a strangled sort of noise, his fingers twitching and curling, eyes wide open and staring. He's probably working out the very naked facts and dying to see the smears of pre-come all over the inside of the trench coat.

"No," Castiel manages to say. It feels like his eyes are bugging out, he's staring so hard. The front of his trench coat is tented, a sure sign Dean is aroused and unencumbered by any sort of clothing. He groans softly and reaches for the belt again. He huffs and gives Dean a disgruntled look when he's denied again. "_Dean_." It's time like this he wishes Dean remembered (or appeared to care) he is a powerful being that does not like being toyed with.

Even if he does... A little. By Dean.

"What?" Dean asks, striving for innocent and pretty much nailing it in his opinion. It's not easy; he's turned the fuck on, and he just wants to press himself against his angel and _wriggle_. Cas' voice is all deep and growly; a very good sign of a turned-on angel. It just does things to him to hear Cas sound all wrecked and aroused. "If you want me to take it off, just say so, man." Cas is shaking his head and, yeah, he knew that already.

Castiel reaches out, grabbing Dean firmly by the lapels of the borrowed trench coat. He pulls the other man into a kiss; he's pretty much over Dean talking and it's been too long since he's felt that soft warmth. He hums with pleasure when Dean shuts up and immediately kisses him back. His hands wander, as they're prone to do, and he yanks the belt free. He takes a moment to enjoy the surprised little noise Dean makes, easily taking on Dean's weight as he stumbles.

He parts the front of the trench coat. His fingers flutter over warm, bare skin covering the delectable ridge of Dean's collarbone and he makes a soft noise when Dean arches into him. He enjoys Dean's tactile side and indulges him, petting and stroking like Dean's a big cat. He's pretty sure the man would purr were he able to...

Dean grunts softly when Cas' fingers drag over his hip and a smooth palm cups his ass over the trench coat. The thin, smooth fabric makes everything feel more intense instead of less. He doesn't bother trying to stop Cas from opening the coat again, smirking a little when Cas is scrambling and nearly ripping his own damn trench coat in his eagerness. He's expecting Cas to shove the trench coat off of him, but he doesn't. Cas just manages to feel him up around (and through) the damn trench coat and it feels awesome but he wants skin-on-skin.

Then Cas parts the trench coat again, just enough to slide his hands inside and it's even better; Cas just knows all the spots to touch, press and caress to get him all hot and bothered in no-time. He's dangerously close to embarrassing himself and Cas' stupid long fingers aren't helping any. He moans, arching his back and spreading his legs involuntarily, when Cas strokes down his ass and finds the hard rubber.

"Dean," Castiel groans, his fingers tracing around the piece of rubber he finds nestled between Dean's cheeks. He presses Dean closer with a hand on the small of his back as he continues to circle the base, feeling the slickness of lubrication and Dean's heat. It's glorious and he's suddenly desperate to be inside Dean.

And he can be, _right now_ - Dean is ready and waiting for him, after all.

Dean quickly works his pants open and he sighs at the immediate release of pressure, his erection forcing the zipper down. He lowers himself into the nearest chair, mind a bit too fuzzed with _Dean, need _and_ want_ to really care it's Sam's preferred spot. He pats his lap and smiles when Dean is eager to comply, all pretense of reluctance or 'too tough for this' gone. He runs a hand down Dean's strong thighs, enjoying the flex and jump of muscle as his Hunter lowers himself to his lap. He shifts the trench coat out of the way, just enough to free Dean's movements but he makes sure it stays on.

There's a few moments of adjustment, both of them chuckling softly at the slightly awkward movements in the confined space. Dean's laugh morphs into a long moan when Cas' fingers are back, stroking and prodding between his ass again. He can't help the noises he makes, or the way his hips move to give Cas easy and all access. But as fan-fucking-tastic as the plug feels, he wants _Cas-_ the tease.

"C'mon, man," he whines when Cas just continues teasing him, the little bastard. His hands are caught in one of Cas', as if the angel knew he was seconds away from reaching around and yanking the damn thing out himself. He's just about to start demanding, annoyed and starting to get desperate when Cas' hand leaves him and he's yanked down into a kiss by a fist in his hair.

Castiel pulls back only enough to be heard, "You have no patience," he chides softly. He knows the fondness is evident in his voice and he's fine with that because Dean seems to take it as a compliment and grins at him. He gently strokes along Dean's jaw and the cocky smile warms for a moment before Dean remembers what they were doing and it once again turns mischievous. He slides his hands down Dean's side with a soft sigh, not all that put out really but aware he should seem so and starts to gently ease the plug out.

He teases the stretched rim a little as he does, but he doesn't dawdle long when Dean huffs and squirms impatiently, giving his hair a warning tug. The plug comes out fairly easily with a gentle side to side motion and he groans softly at the slick sound it makes as he works it from Dean's body. He tosses it carelessly to the floor, no longer caring about it now that he's got a lap full of ready, willing Dean.

At Dean's groan he kisses the side of his neck, nuzzling and silently acknowledging Dean's displeasure with the sudden empty feeling. He runs his hands up and down Dean's chest and moans softly when Dean is quick to bend over and kiss him breathless yet again. He allows Dean to angle his head and offers no resistance when lips trail down his jaw and neck, aware of and enjoying Dean's near-obsession with kissing him all over. He makes a soft sound of pleasure, enjoying the sensation of light stubble and nipping kisses.

Dean shifts enough in Cas' lap to get himself aligned properly. It's not always easy to get Cas in in one-shot, but he's gonna fucking try - he's sorta desperate here. He reaches behind himself but the damn trench coat is in the way. He moves to take the stupid thing off when Cas catches his hands again, pushing his hands away from the fabric and holding onto his wrists. He glares, annoyed with the cock-blocking coat but he's turned the fuck on, as usual, by Cas casual demonstration of strength.

"Cas, c'mon, coat off," he breathes, feeling flushed and too hot as he gives a perfunctory struggle. He wriggles a little, settling Cas' dick right between his ass cheeks. Maybe if he gets Cas worked up enough, he'll stop being a little shit and _get going_.

"No," Castiel growls softly. "Keep it on."

Dean stills, his eyebrows sliding up as he slowly smirks. He makes a show of looking at Cas and then the trench coat. "Kinky bastard."

"Apparently, yes," Castiel says with a shrug. He's long since gotten over any sense of embarrassment when it came to Dean and their intimate relationship. He'd point out Dean's hypocrisy, considers citing the various requests Dean has made of him, but he doesn't. Dean rarely appreciates speaking of such things aloud. At the moment, Dean appears willing and he's not arguing, even if he does look a little frustrated yet smug... He gathers the fabric and holds it up, "Hold this."

He gives the Hunter a smile when Dean is quick to comply, looking a little confused for a moment until realization dawns. He nearly laughs when Dean is quick to hold the yards of fabric up and out of the way, tucking it under his arm. As arousing as it is to see Dean in his trench coat, this sight is just as pleasing. He slides his hands up Dean's thighs until he reaches his ass. He gives each a cheek a gentle squeeze and finds his own cock with little effort.

"Lift up," he murmurs. Dean does and he gently traces around Dean's slicked, ready body. They both groan at the sensation and with only a little adjustment, Dean is lowering himself and he's sliding into familiar warmth. It's a rather quick process this time and Dean is snug against his pelvis in moments, circling and rolling his hips in small movements as he fully adjusts. He takes a moment to enjoy the feeling of Dean, tight and hot around him, and then gently loosens Dean's hold on the trench coat.

Castiel watches the tan fabric billow down and drape against Dean's body and his legs. It's quite an arousing image. He pushes the trench coat out of the way enough to get a better view of Dean. He runs his hands along his body, marveling at the imperfect perfection. Enjoying the body molded by a hard life and physical labor, ignoring Dean's petulant scowl. He looks up, smiling in a way that Dean can easily translate as 'get used to it' since he will probably never tire of admiring the Hunter.

His hands wander again, occupying himself during the wait. He briefly strokes along Dean's inner thighs to his erection; enraptured, as he usually is, when it twitches at his touch and Dean makes that pleased sound in the back of his throat and wiggles a little in his lap. He makes his own sound of pleasure when he feels Dean's muscles contract around him briefly. It's tempting to grab Dean and start thrusting, but he waits.

Dean's head falls back with a grunt, feeling overloaded with _Cas_; inside and out. "Fuck, Cas." He probably didn't use a big enough plug because there's a slight burn, a dull, stretched but awesome ache - even with the prep and tons of lube. Sometimes, somehow, he actually forgets Cas has a monster cock. Cas' constant touching is kinda relaxing as well as arousing, making him sweat and tingle with nearly every damn touch. It doesn't take long to adjust and he grabs Cas by the hair for a messy but loving kiss, silently thanking him for holding off. Score two points for angel patience.

He slowly backs off enough so they can breath and wriggles, moaning softly as he tests if he's ready or not. Oh yeah, he's ready. Cas twitches and makes that breathy little sound he does when Dean's blowing his freakin' mind and he knows his angel is probably slowly losing his patience but he doesn't move otherwise.

"Go on," Castiel says imperiously, leaning back in the chair and settling his hands on the armrests. His intentions are clear and he expects an argument or maybe a cocky comment, but Dean just breaths out a 'Hell yeah' and starts to move. His fingers clench the armrests so he doesn't touch just yet. Dean doesn't need his help and he's a panting mess in moments as he watches the Hunter.

The chair is making ungodly sounds as it takes their combined weight and movement; it's... oddly erotic. And loud. When combined with their heavy breathing, moans and grunts, it's very obvious what they're doing outside the privacy of their shared bedroom. It's all a little overwhelming...

Castiel can't help himself any longer; he needs to touch. He brushes a hand down Dean's belly; imagining he can feel himself just under the roiling muscles and soft skin, filling Dean. He looks up when Dean gives a breathy chuckle and bats his hand away. "What?"

"Stop that," Dean pants. Even flushed and wild-eyed with lust, he can see Cas' confusion. "Dude, I'll come." He stops just long enough to move his knee out of the dip between the chair and cushion before getting a move on again. He groans when Cas' hand is right back where it was, pushing and pressing now instead of just brushing across his skin. That shouldn't feel so damn good, but it _does_. "Oh, fuck."

Castiel increases the pressure, gaze intent on Dean. He still doesn't understand why Dean will occasionally tell him not to encourage an orgasm and he's curious to see if this is a new way to please him. Dean shudders, the motion of his hips stuttering but not stopping. "You like this," he says, knowing it's true.

Dean's hands clamp down on his shoulders instead of answering, the blunt nails digging in with a pleasant sort of pain. He follows the path of hair down Dean's belly (just barely resisting the urge to tickle Deans' belly) and brushes the side of his thumb along the base of Dean's cock, dragging it up and collecting some of the copious amounts of moisture dribbling along the shaft. He circles the slicked thumb along the flushed head, pressing down and reveling in Dean's guttural moan and increased pace.

He angles his head back when Dean sinks both hands in his hair, fisting tightly. Ever since he told Dean it wouldn't hurt him, his Hunter does it all the time; especially when he's mind-less to his passion, free to react however he wishes as he approaches orgasm. He loves it, really. It's arousing and touching to think Dean requires an anchor to reality, too overcome with pleasure to think straight.

Castiel shifts the trench coat down to Dean's shoulders, running his free hand up Dean's chest and neck. He pinches a nipple, silently demanding an answer.

"Yeah," Dean admits, unable to get his hands out of Cas' hair long enough to smack those fucking hands away again. "Oh god," he moans when fingers press and roll across his sweaty skin. How the fuck did Cas always know what buttons to push? He'd hate it but it makes for the most mind-blowing sex he's ever had. Even with his eyes closed, and Cas huffing and panting like a freight train, he can feel those blue eyes focused intently on him; watching and cataloging him for reactions as Cas' hand circles his dick and starts pumping.

He automatically shifts the movements to fuck into Cas' fist as well, making all sorts of slutty noises as he does so. He kinda wants to curse Cas' perfect rhythm and pressure, be annoyed Cas learned his way around a dick and his body so damn fast... But he can't, not when it's all just so damn good. It's too much... He clenches his teeth, trying to muffle the string of curses and grunts as he comes, jerking helplessly and making a mess of himself, Cas and the trench coat.

And probably the chair... Oops.

Dean pants as he flops forward, sated and spent. He feels Cas' hands wrap around his waist and he's jerked around when Cas starts to thrust up into him. He tangles his fingers in the sweaty hair at the back of Cas' head, nipping as his neck, "C'mon, Cas," he encourages. He wants to move, but he's too loose and noodly after his own recent orgasm to do much else but talk. He can feel Cas shudder, moaning and pawing at him in his desperation.

He can't help snickering when the chair makes a loud creak as Cas grabs the armrests, squeezing them until they creak too, when he finally comes. Thank fuck for that; he was starting to get oversensitive. They both sigh like idiots and relax into post-sex awesomeness. He wriggles down until Cas' arms slide around him, pressing the soft fabric of the trench coat into his sweaty skin. He's probably just as kinky a bastard as Cas when he shivers with a perverse sort of pleasure at the idea.

"So?"

Castiel slowly opens his eyes and cocks his head a little. It's not often Dean asks for a performance evaluation and he's a little confused. Dean's face is still pressed against his neck, though, so he clears his throat and asks "Yes?" aloud.

"Wearing the coat again, aren't I?" Dean mumbles against Cas' neck. Cas' hands splay out and he can feel fingertips pressing into him. That's a 'yes, please' if he ever heard one. Felt one... Whatever. He can practically hear Cas thinking for an acceptable answer and runs a hand through the messy hair. He doesn't give a shit if Cas wants to indulge in a little trench coat action every once in awhile. It's probably one of the least kinky things he expected, honestly.

He wriggles his fingers through Cas' hair, angling his head enough to so his lips aren't smashed against Cas. "S'cool, but you're gonna need to get this puppy dry cleaned a lot more often." He smiles when he feels Cas' chuckle reverberate through his chest.


End file.
